Flashback
by sickoftakenpennames
Summary: "I read others like a book; not the other way around." Rated T for course language.
1. Chapter 1

**First off, the following at some point alludes to another story which I may or may not have the intention of writing. D: Sorry, but this idea came first. Plus, this was originally intended as a one shot, but... well, let's see how this goes.**

**I have **_**so many other projects on hold**_**. DDD: *shot***

* * *

><p><em>"Dad! DAD!"<em>

_The man watched from the porch of a large, impressively structured house, surrounded by many others like it. 1969 suburbia was having a fairly normal day; dogs were barking, children were playing hopscotch, tag, hide-and-seek and other games. Most parents were keeping a close eye, if they weren't already participating in the activities themselves. _

_Except for one in particular. He watched his five-year-old with a scowl, not responding to his shouts for attention. Not that it stopped the kid; he continued to shoot around the front yard like a rocket, running through the radius of the water from the sprinkler as thunder started to roll in the distance. Others on the street took notice and were beginning to call their children inside, even though (oddly enough) it was still plenty sunny._

_The child was undeterred. He continued to jump for his father's attention, the water from the sprinkler hitting his back._

_"Dad!" he yelled again as some invisible hand turned the water off. Not that the child noticed. It had already begun to drizzle in some areas of the neighborhood._

_The man continued to wear a scorned expression, but said nothing. His son pointed up to the sky, the clouds barely blocking the sun's rays; however, rain began to come down normally, and in one of life's little curiosities, it seemingly managed to end at a point somewhere in the middle of the yard. Excited at this oddity, the son jumped in between the two conditions, dry one second, playing in the water the next._

_"Look! Look! Isn't this cool?" he shouted as his mother came walking around from the side of the house to the safety of the porch awning. She realized with a smile that there probably hadn't been much point in turning the sprinkler off._

_Their son, though slightly jumpy, waited for one of their responses._

_His father retained his cold stare, but spoke up._

_"Don't you know what it means when it's sunny and raining at the same time?" he called out. His sternness caused his son to stop for a second, racking his brain for an answer._

_"Um..." was all the child could say, a confused expression on his face._

_His father's expression altered then; he furrowed his brow more, but a grim smirk played on the corner of his lips._

_"It means the devil is plotting."_

_This visibly shook the boy; he looked around unsurely, wondering if his dad was just playing around with him, like he sometimes had a tendency to do (at least, the kid liked to think so). The mother pursed her lips, but didn't reprimand her husband._

_The two of them watched their son dash over to the porch suddenly, wrapping his mother's legs in an insecure hug which she promptly returned. _

_"There, there, Vovochka," she comforted him in her pronounced Russian accent, stroking his damp black hair down as she reached for a towel hanging off of the swinging seat behind her, all the while giving her spouse a disappointed look. It went ignored, at any rate; he just looked at his son disdainfully, almost as if wondering why this child continued to dwell in the realm of foolish ideas._

_He headed inside as she continued to dry her son off._

* * *

><p><em>September, 1977; a thirteen-year-old boy jumped up and down on the sidewalk, trying desperately to snatch his backpack back from a taller boy (who honestly looked about two years his senior, but in actuality was his age), who held it tauntingly over his head, knowing well the poor kid would never reach it. A friend of the harasser stood by silently, smirking at the smaller one's misfortune. <em>

_"Aw, does wittle Masters want his bookbag back?" he chided, yanking the bag back up at the jump of the other boy, who stopped for a second to catch his breath._

_"Screw you, Carmichael!" the Masters boy exclaimed in an embarrassingly unchanged voice, earning a set of sarcastic "oohs" from Carmichael and his friend and a violent shove backwards._

_"Wanna talk tough, little guy?" Carmichael retorted, still holding onto the bag. _

_The Masters boy just recollected himself and tried to stand up straight, giving his opponent the dirtiest look he could muster, which was only laughed off._

_"Come on, it would be a tragedy if Masters didn't show up with his precious bag tomorrow, wouldn't it?" Carmichael continued to taunt, sneering._

_The shorter boy scowled as the two in front of him continued to laugh at his expense, thinking of a good retort._

_Finally one came to him._

_"It would be a tragedy if you didn't show up 'cause someone bought out your dad's crappy little sports store!" he blurted out._

_Carmichael stopped laughing, alright._

_"Run that by me again, punk?" he started to shout, shoving the bag into his accomplice's arms and advancing towards Masters, who realized he now had no choice but to strike a defensive pose._

_"You wanna start something?" Carmichael threatened. He was dangerously close to Masters by this point, the latter realizing he had little time left to make a move._

_"You think you can just wave your money around and have everyone do what you want? My dad's just as good as yours; he even helped get the mayor elected. Good thing, too; oughta run the Commies like your old man out of town for good. Daddy can't protect you forever."_

_Masters knew this kid didn't know what he was talking about. He had probably overheard his parents and was just spewing out whatever he had deemed insults to sound more intimidating. Making a split second decision, Masters shut his eyes and took a wild left hook to his right, hoping it would connect with something._

_If air counted as something. _

_When he opened his eyes, he realized Carmichael had swiftly dodged the attack. Even worse, he was beginning to wind up a strike of his own. Not thinking, Masters covered his face with his arms, instinctively trying to protect his head. Unfortunately, that left his abdomen open, a detail which Carmichael (for all his dim-wittedness) did not let slip by him._

_The boy fell to the ground with the wind knocked out of him, his stomach stinging with the pain from the hit and not knowing what else to do. This kid was going to make a punching sack out of him if he didn't do something quick..._

_But it soon became apparent that he probably wouldn't need to; someone's angry cries from down the street startled the lot of them, and Carmichael started to back off along with his goon._

_Masters looked to see who his protector (or at least distraction) was; he recognized his mother's head of wavy red hair and petite figure hurrying down the street, and felt a pang of embarrassment in his stomach. Still, as he looked back at Carmichael, his expression showed that her advances seemed to be doing the trick._

_"Come on, let's ditch this!" hissed Carmichael, finally tossing the backpack to the ground at Masters' feet, although not without a few parting words._

_"Before Masters' mommy catches up!" he shouted sarcastically, laughing with his buddy all the way down the sidewalk._

_Finally his mother approached her son on the ground, helping him stand up._

_"Are you okay?" she asked frantically, straightening out his hair and shirt collar. To her surprise, her son slapped her hands away, a look of shame written on his downcast face._

_"Yeah," he snapped, leaning over to pick up his bag and the materials that had spilled out. He started walking at a brisk pace back to his house without even acknowledging his mother with a "thanks."_

_As she tried to keep up with him, she felt a twinge of sadness; maybe it was just the way teenage boys were, but she couldn't help but feel like there would be more situations like this to come, and she wondered if her boy would be able to deal with it should they do so._

_She could only help when she could, and wait and see._

* * *

><p><em>A loud, ear-piercing shriek from the school bell signified the beginning of fourth period. The remaining students filed into the classroom quickly, filling up the last of the seats.<em>

_Carmichael and his two friends occupied the last row, taking the spot behind a young Asian girl and a boy about her age. He had already begun to write the heading and date on his paper; April 16__th__, 1980 was written neatly in script up in the corner._

_The J.V. jock behind the girl smirked at his two companions as he began to play with the tips of her hair, going unnoticed. Snickers from the group earned them a few harsh cries for silence but otherwise they remained undetected. Going a step further for a few extra laughs, Carmichael began to stroke the back of her recently-done perm like it was a dog of some sort. More stifled laughter was uttered from his friends._

_Finally the girl whirled around in her seat to investigate the disturbance, and her expression turned into one of mild horror. She quickly swatted away the jock's hand, sighed with disgust, and turned back around to focus on the assignment on the board. _

"_Whoa, baby!" Carmichael cooed as his companions continued to chuckle._

"_Don't call me that," she snapped without turning around, earning a series of murmuring from the cronies. Carmichael, however, snorted and tried to brush it off as nothing._

"_Harriet, just…" he tried again, reaching for her shoulder._

_Like a reflex, she slapped it away again, warning him, "Don't touch me, asshole!"_

"_Ooooh!" cried his friends, along with a few others who had happened to overhear._

_Fuming, Carmichael suddenly made a much more forceful grab for her arm._

"_Listen, bi-"_

"_She said cut it out."_

_Harriet used this opportunity to wrench her arm out of Carmichael's grasp while he stared at his challenger furiously._

"_What?"_

"_You heard me," Vlad retorted, keeping his pencil to his paper but returning Carmichael's look. "Leave her alone. She already said it twice."_

"_Aw, what, you're gonna sit there and defend your girlfriend?" the jock retorted, smiling. Vlad rolled his eyes and went back to his work, leaving Harriet to return the chide for him._

"_You wish a girl would look at you," she said bitterly, encouraging more snickering from the surrounding students, which was enough to finally make the teacher take notice._

"_What is going on back there?" he inquired angrily as he turned around from the blackboard to look at his suspects._

_Nobody said a word, hoping he would eventually turn back around and forget the whole thing (his usual course of action), but today he had decided enough was enough._

"_I need an answer. Now!"_

_Slamming his fist on his desk, the students looked around nervously, giving Carmichael enough time to fix a note from out of sight._

"_Masters!" he declared indignantly, causing the boy he had called out to jump. "Mr. Kennedy doesn't look like this!"_

_Carmichael held up the note for all to see, revealing a crudely drawn sketch of the teacher with his legendarily bad comb over. However, an extra toothbrush mustache that had been added made for a very unflattering portrait, to say the least. All Vlad could do was look in horror as Mr. Kennedy's face turned beet red._

"_No!" Vlad protested. "I didn't…"_

"_Office, Masters! _NOW!_" Mr. Kennedy roared, pointing to the door._

_Stunned into silence, Vlad hesitantly reached for his backpack as Carmichael and his gang chuckled behind him, bumping fists._

"_That goes for you too, Baxter!"_

_It was Carmichael's turn to look terrified._

"_What?" he exclaimed._

"_You heard me! Both of you, OUT!"_

"_But Mr. Kennedy, Vlad didn't…" Harriet tried to intervene._

"_You want to join them, Miss Chin?" came back the threat, forcing Vlad's only advocate into silence._

_Vlad was already at the door. Giving the rest of the room an unsure last one-over, he went to grab the doorknob, only to be shoved aside and beat to it by the one who had gotten him into this mess._

_Head hanging, Vlad walked out into the hallway and to his punishment._

…

"_Unbelievable!" cried Carmichael with disdain as he and Vlad walked out of the principal's office, throwing his backpack to the ground. "Two week's suspension? Are you kidding me?"_

_The final bell had rung, and students shuffled out of classrooms like cattle, slipping past each other to reach their destinations. Carmichael's goons sauntered up to his side and inquired what had happened._

"_Two weeks! That's playoffs! Gone!" Carmichael whined, kicking a locker._

_He turned his attention to Vlad, his eyes narrowed._

"_Thanks to you, Masters," he growled._

_Vlad was stunned, but fired back._

"_Me? None of this was my fault and you know it!"_

"_If it wasn't for your stupid girlfriend, I…"_

"_Harriet's not my girlfriend. She's a good friend."_

_Readjusting his backpack, Vlad headed for the entrance doors while muttering something under his breath._

"_Not something you would know about."_

_Unfortunately, it did not go unheard like he intended._

"_Run that by me again, punk?" Carmichael yelled, yanking the smart mouth back by his collar and pinning him against the locker with his cronies acting as back-up. A small ring of students took notice and started to form around the scene._

Oh, no,_ Vlad started to think, panicking. He only had a limited amount of time before they would be completely closed in._

"_You got something you wanna say, smartass?" Carmichael continued to threaten, tightening his hold on Vlad's throat._

Do something! Now!

_Summoning up the most courage he could, Vlad welled up a wad of saliva and spit harshly into his opponent's eye. Disgusting, yes, especially for one who had a thing for being a neat-freak like him, but it was his only option._

_Carmichael let out a disgruntled cry and swung a right hook to Vlad's cheek; fortunately, the smaller teen managed to move his head away enough for his enemy to come colliding with the steel frame of the locker instead, leaving a noticeable dent. Howling with pain over the stunned gasps of the crowd, Carmichael reeled back to check his hand while Vlad made his break._

_As he shoved through the crowd to the front door, Carmichael directed his accomplices in his victim's direction._

"_Don't just stand there, _go!_" he shouted, still cringing in pain as the two sprinted after the Masters' son._

…

_He ran and ran, keeping his eyes glued forward so he wouldn't have to see how close they were coming to catching up. Their threatening shouts had been following him for the past ten minutes, and he could tell they were advancing slowly. Being out in the open street didn't help, either; he knew he had to find some cover, and fast._

_The only one available was the sparse patch of forest that was on the other side of the street, behind a chain-link fence. Acting on impulse, he dashed out into the middle of the road (much to the chagrin of the drivers) and quickly scaled the fence, dropping into the dirt stumbling._

_The gang of three had to wait and maneuver around the honking line of vehicles, by which time their prey had already gained distance on them. Hopping over the fence themselves, they couldn't find any trace of him._

_Carmichael surveyed their surroundings, a look of the utmost contempt written on his face._

"_You got away this time, Masters!" he shouted, knowing that somewhere his classmate could hear him. At this, his friends already started to walk away, leaving him to monologue._

"_You won't be so lucky next time! I'm keeping an eye out for you, got it? Run home all you like; it won't help you! Screw you! To hell with you, and your stupid Commie mommy!"_

_At that he finally walked away, leaving Vlad to sigh in defeat and collapse next to the fallen tree trunk he had been hiding behind._

* * *

><p>The man stirred in his sleep suddenly; a pained expression washed over his face, his eyebrows drawing to a knit and a sharp inhale audible from his lips before he settled back down.<p>

The figure opposite his bed cloaked in shadow started at this reaction; it, too, remained silent as it continued to watch over him.

* * *

><p><em>He plucked another twig from his hair as he dragged his feet along the sidewalk; it had taken him an hour and a half to walk all the way around the path his pursuers had opted for, and the buses had already left the school loop by the time he could get a glimpse of the campus. <em>

_Vlad tried not to think about Carmichael's comments as he walked up to his front yard. He never understood why Carmichael couldn't see that the two of them were more similar than they thought; both of their fathers were well-known in the community. For goodness' sake, they were both Republicans! Vlad's father had voted plenty of times for the man Carmichael's father had done campaign work for!_

_Pushing his front gate open, Vlad didn't notice the Corvette missing from the driveway. It was only until he was at his door that he picked his head up from looking at his feet. Much to his surprise, there were no lights on in the house. The only sign that anyone had been there was a note taped to the front door, which he inspected, recognizing his father's hand. It read:_

"_Son,_

_We got the call from your school today; however, we had already made plans to go visit your mother's sister down in Florida. We waited for you to come home, but after your principal reached us we realized you shouldn't be in too much of a rush to get anywhere. You're old enough to be on your own for a while. Hopefully you remembered your keys this morning. We'll be gone for about a week; there's plenty in the fridge to satisfy you. Don't forget to water the plants._

_-Your father"_

_Vlad stared at the note incredulously. His parents had ditched him? What about his mother? What did she say to all this?_

_He leaned with his back to the door and realized that she had probably had no choice but to go along with it; she didn't handle confrontation well._

_With a sigh, he reached into his pocket for his house keys. Grabbing a handful of air, he began to panic; he frantically searched the rest of himself and his backpack until he realized he probably _did _forget his keys inside this morning on his dresser. Pathetically, he began to wrestle with the doorknob, realizing that there was no use._

_Vlad sank to the ground and buried his head in his hands. Why couldn't his father just ground him like other, normal parents?_

_He picked up his belongings after a few minutes and made way for the nearest restaurant; the only thing he could do now was try to get a decent meal for the night (if his school money could afford him even that)._

_If he had bothered to look in the window he would have seen his keys lying neatly on the kitchen table, moved from his dresser._

* * *

><p>"<em>Mail's here."<em>

_Vlad looked up from his magazine only to have Jack slap his mail down messily on his lap._

"_Thanks," he replied sarcastically, to which Jack offered a small two-finger salute._

_Looking through the envelopes, he noticed one had his mother's hand written on it in red ink. Puzzled, he immediately ripped it open and unfolded the letter inside. The entire body of script was written very shakily. It was dated September 23__rd__, 1982. _

"_My dearest son,_

_I regret to tell you this terrible news; your father has passed away from heart failure. Doctors said that his cardiac muscles were unusually weak and they were bound to give out any time. Fortunately it happened quietly, in his sleep. I know it is sad to hear this in only your first year of college, but try to remember, he was quiet man. He suffered alone, and would have not wanted for you to preoccupy yourself with matters like this in beginning of your studies. I also ask that you do not worry about me, either; there will be quiet funeral in week's time. _

_Your loving mother,  
>-Sonia"<em>

_Silence. He could only stare, dumbfounded, at the paper._

_He waited for it to hit him._

…_and waited… and waited. Nothing._

_He didn't feel anything. _Couldn't_ feel anything. Not a thing. _

_That was what struck him the hardest._

_Jack noticed his friend sitting in complete silence on his bed._

"…_hey. V-man. You okay?" he inquired._

_It took Vlad a second to respond._

"…_yeah. I'm fine."_

_He looked blankly out the window._

* * *

><p><em>He shuffled through the papers on the table, trying to get an estimate or reading of some kind.<em>

"_Vlad?"_

_He looked up to see Maddie standing in front of him, looking unsure._

"_Yeah?"_

_She seemed nervous._

"…_it's just… if you don't want to go through with this today, it's not a problem. We're not exactly upsetting any audience, either, so…"_

"_Maddie, it's okay," he assured her. "I wouldn't miss this for the world."_

_He smiled warmly at her, a gesture she halfway returned._

"_I just know you must've gone through a hard time lately, with your dad and all…"_

_He cut her off._

"_I'm perfectly fine."_

_At this she looked surprised. She usually expected something…else from someone who had just lost a parent._

"_Well, uh… okay then," she responded a little more cheerfully, returning to her previous work._

_Vlad was about to do the same, until he started to let his mind wander. At this rate, he figured, now was as good a time as ever._

"_Actually, Maddie, there's been something I've been wanting to tell you for a long time…"_

"_One second, Vlad… Jack, did you remember to fill the filtrator with ecto-purifier?"_

"_On it, baby!" came their large friend's enthusiastic reply._

_On his way, Jack couldn't help but give Maddie a certain look. Slightly upset, but not wanting to make a scene, Vlad crossed his arms and walked over to the mechanical portal that rested on the table._

_Inspecting it, Vlad finally gave an exasperated cry of "I'm telling you, Jack, it won't work!"_

"_Bogus, V-man," Jack responded cheerfully. "It totally will! This Proto-Portal is guaranteed to bust the wall open into the ghost dimension!"_

_Skeptical, Vlad leaned in to give their contraption a closer look as his friends went for the controls._

_Maddie swept up a stack of papers, giving them a cursory glance. She frowned._

"…_Jack, these calculations aren't right."_

_Unfortunately, Jack had already grown a little too enthusiastic about his experiment, and her warning fell on deaf ears._

"_BANZAI!" he shouted ecstatically, throwing on the switch on the control pad._

_A dangerous grumbling sound came to life in the generator; the portal began to glow and shake violently, shocking Vlad out of his stupor and forcing him to take a step back._

_But it was too late; there was an all-consuming burst of light…_

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Okay, definitely not a one-shot at this point. :P**

**Also, Vovochka is something of a diminutive for "Vlad" in Russian; I just hope it's the right one. Seriously, there's like a list…**


	2. Chapter 2

**Hopefully I can actually get through this story; maybe now I can work on my others. Cross your fingers, guys!**

* * *

><p>"<em>Mr. Masters, it's time for lunch."<em>

_The young man in the hospital bed slowly turned his head to look to the nurse in the door; the calendar on the side read November 6__th__, 1984. The bandages that covered most of his face, while cumbersome, were a necessary evil that he had eventually become accustomed to. Little zones of acne scarring and open sores could be seen through the patches._

"_Thank you," he said, barely above a whisper._

_The nurse stepped nervously away into the hallway to let him get up. He could only bring himself to sit upright, cradling his head in his hands. _

_This had been his life for the past three years; nurses, hospital food, tests, hospital food, drug administration, hospital food, lather, rinse, repeat. He was slowly starting to forget a time when it was never like this. Maybe if he wasn't pumped up full of pain medication all the time, it would've been easier to remember. The only thing he could recall was how some of his friends had visited him for the first few months after the accident, Jack and Maddie in particular. The former had initially spent all of his time there weeping and apologizing profusely, not able to bear the sight of his disfigured friend (by his own hand, no less). All Vlad could do was stare and assure him that it had been a mistake. But somewhere, deep down… he wasn't positive if _he _really believed that. There was a part of him that wondered if maybe, just maybe, his best friend had set out to intentionally sabotage him._

_Of course, he dismissed the idea as ludicrous. Others (including Harriet) came out as well to express their condolences, and he always thanked them kindly, pushing the idea out of his head for weeks at a time. But when night fell over the hospital, and the only thing to accompany him was the blank, paneled ceiling and the smell of disinfectant, he lay awake reliving the moment in his head._

_Soon, the friends from the university stopped showing up, leaving Jack, Maddie, and Harriet as his only regulars; even then, visits were few and far between. After a while, Jack's crying would stop, but he would continue to apologize and ask if there was anything he could do. Again, Vlad would reassure his "friend" that all was well, but with each passing day the promise became less and less sincere. Eventually Vlad would remain silent, leaving his friend to ramble on his own._

_It finally came to a point where the visits from Jack and Maddie dropped off, too. His mother couldn't visit him, either; after her husband's death she had moved back to New York to be with her remaining family, and she was aging now, as well. If he was lucky, Harriet would drop by once every month (usually to brag about her advancements in the journalism field)._

_By then he had become completely silent and reclusive. Body language had become his preferred method of communication, and if one of the nurses was lucky, they would hear the elusive "Thank you."_

_This had been his life for the past three years._

_He stood up and went to get his lunch._

…

_When he returned he found a stack of mail on the dresser next to his bed. Setting his meal tray down, he picked up the pile and robotically began rummaging through it, knowing that there probably wasn't anything special in it. Why should there be? Nothing of interest had entered his mailbox since his college mates dropped out of contact with him._

_Until one envelope with his aunt's address caught his eye._

_Red ink._

_He paused. This was not a good omen for him._

_He debated in his mind whether or not to bother opening it, until he realized that the moment would have to come eventually. He had no choice but to brace himself and rip open the seal._

_Unfolding the letter, he began to read._

"_Dear Vlad,_

_I cannot bring myself to relate to you this horrible news, but I know I have to. Your mother passed on a week ago in her sleep; the doctors said that she had had a stroke of some kind, and there was nothing that could have been done to prevent it. It hurts so much to tell you this while you're still in recovery, but the only thing that would be worse would be to keep you in the dark about such a thing. She was still so young; I cannot begin to describe how awful it is that we lost her so early. She was the sweetest thing, too. She loved everyone in our family so much, especially you, Vlad. She adored you. It was like having an angel within our reach. I know she's watching now, and wouldn't want to watch her family go through this much pain, but… it's still difficult._

_The funeral will be in Brighton Beach in a week._

_All my condolences and love,  
>-Aunt Alexandra"<em>

…

_Silence._

_Numbness washed over him like when he had received news of his father, but this was distinctly different; the feeling of emptiness then had been just that, nothing. But this, this wasn't just emptiness; this was loneliness of the worst kind. Isolation._

_Abandonment._

_The feelings of rage and frustration washed over him instantly; he grabbed the vase of wilting flowers from his dresser and flung it across the room, watching it shatter into millions of dangerous little pieces, flying through the air._

_Medical personnel rushed in and watched as he tore the letter into pieces, having been called in by the startled elders in the room next to him. They spent a minute trying to calm their patient down before he furiously yanked the curtains around his bed and left them all standing before they got the cue that he wished for solitude._

…

"_911, what is your emergency?"_

"_May I please be directed to the UW hospital line, please?"_

"_Sir, what is your problem?"_

"_Can I please be redirected?"_

"…_right away, sir."_

_**BEEP.**_

_Static._

_***Click***__ "Good evening, this is the University of Wisconsin Medical Hospital."_

"_Hello, yes, I'm calling from the payphone across the street and I would just like you to know there is a man standing on a ledge outside your building."_

"…_I'm sorry, what?"_

"_There's a man on the ledge. I think he's going to jump."_

"…_wait, okay, I'm sorry, w… okay, can you please describe him to me, sir?"_

"_I don't know, it's kinda dark out here, but he looks like he's wearing regular clothes… I can't really get a good look at his face, it's all wrapped up or something…"_

"_Thank you very much, sir."_

_***Click.***_

…

_This was his only choice left. He knew it; all his other options had been tossed away a long time ago. As long as some idiot didn't see him from down below and mess this up before he gathered his courage, this could all go as quickly and painlessly as possible._

"VLAD!_"_

_He started at the shout of his own name and looked to his bedroom window to find a familiar (and enraged) face sticking out._

"…_Harriet?"_

"_What the hell are you _doing?_" she yelled, not bothering with formalities. She reached out to tug on his leg sleeve, but that only caused him to shuffle left quickly. Harriet gasped as he wobbled dangerously, but both of them were temporarily relieved when he caught his balance._

_She wasn't calm for long, however._

"_Get over here…"_

"_Don't touch me, Harriet! I swear to God, I'll do it!" he shouted over the wind._

"_Masters!" she shouted angrily again, to no avail. It only served to signal a nurse to approach Harriet from behind._

"_Ma'am, I'm going to have to ask you not to yell at…"_

"_Don't tell me what the hell to do! This is a private conversation!"_

_She whirled back around._

"_Are you crazy?" she continued to scream at the top of her lungs. The crowd gathering on the ground seemed to be wondering the same thing._

_Vlad ignored her, looking out at the city light-sprinkled horizon._

"_I've got nowhere else to go, Harriet. I'm done for. My parents are dead, my face is fried, I lost my scholarship… I can never catch up."_

"_And this is your solution?" she retorted bitterly. Vlad still wouldn't look at her. His eyes were stinging from the wind._

_Frustrated, Harriet finally decided to try a different approach. _

"_Vlad," she said calmly after taking a shaky breath. "Come back inside. Talk to someone. Please."_

_He couldn't bear to look at anyone and turned his head away in shame._

"_Vlad. Look at me."_

_After a pensive second he turned his head and found her arm outstretched towards him. He was struck dumb; this was not a Harriet he knew._

"_Please. Please."_

_Harriet looked like she was about to choke. This surprised Vlad even more, and after thinking it over, he shakily reached over and told a hold of her wrist._

_The crowd cheered as the young lady was able to coax her friend back inside._

…

_Once his feet hit the ground, he looked around and noticed the portion of hospital staff that had gathered in his room._

_Shaken and still off-guard, he looked at his companion and saw the traces of worry still left in her eyes._

_Neither said anything; she just squeezed his hand._

* * *

><p><em>In a few years time the condition had cleared up enough for him to be discharged from the hospital and able to get on with his life. He had wondered how on earth he would've been able to get by, until one fateful day he discovered that he had developed the strangest of abilities; he had panicked and shut himself up in his apartment, deeming himself still ill, or worse, some kind of mutant. But eventually he was approached by a trio of ancient-looking vultures, claiming to be (of all things) ghosts, and also declaring their inexplicable alliance to him. <em>

_He spent months after that convinced that he was delusional; that ghosts were in no way real and that he would be doomed to keep his sickness to himself. But eventually, the spirits convinced him to do something with his life, and after slowly coming to accept his reality, he became entrenched in various business schemes. He learned from magazines how to play his cards right in the stock market, and picked up a little on the side with the help of his new accomplices (he liked to think of it as 'borrowed potential investment'). He even managed to wrangle a deal out of the Wisconsin Dairy King's will, inheriting an impressive mansion in the countryside in the process._

_Still, even as his wealth and power grew, he knew deep down inside that there was one crucial piece missing, and all the money in the world would never be able to acquire it._

_Maddie. He had found out after being released from the hospital that she had married none other than good ol' Jack Fenton, and not only that, but they had children together. Although he boiled with resentment over his old college friends' union, he eventually convinced himself that he would get his love back someday; all it would take would be a little finesse and persuasion. He would finally have the life he always wanted, the one he _knew_ he deserved._

_And then he found out they had a son. Not only that, but a son that was _just like him._ He couldn't believe his luck; bad, on one hand, that he wasn't Vlad's. Good on the other in that he soon would be, in Vlad's mind, anyway._

_He spent years in encounters with the boy, watching him grow, and realizing the potential he held. Not to mention how much of Vlad he truly reflected in himself (though he refused to admit it). Indeed, Danny Fenton had become one to keep an eye on, and what better way to do that than move to his hometown?_

_Unfortunately, things had gone off the deep end after that; one destroyed clone and election later, Vlad had been a little too rooted in his determination to make the boy suffer and pay for what he did, and it ended up brutally costing him his life on earth._

_Stranded, in space._

_Darkness, quiet, everything he had feared…_

_A portal…_

_A chance to escape…_

_Wild goose chases across the Ghost Zone, a battle of some sort, and then…._

_Nothing._

_Everything becomes a blur…_

…_everything starts _coming back…

* * *

><p>He jolted awake. Staring at a dark ceiling of some sort, he couldn't recollect a thing, except that his heart was pounding vigorously and his pulse was booming in his ears.<p>

Shaking uncontrollably, he struggled to sit himself up, trying to take in his surroundings. Even his excellent nighttime vision, however, couldn't make sense of his environment, especially under the stress of his situation.

Even in his confusion, he could sense another presence in the room. He instinctively jumped out of the bed and was ready to fire a concentration of energy at his intruder.

The pink glow from the tips of his fingers illuminated the room and revealed his companion; a young, fragile looking female spirit dressed like some kind of unknown culture of gypsy, was sitting down and returned his gaze calmly.

"…you are up," she replied softly, her stare unwavering. She had a heavy trace of an Arabic accent.

Vlad didn't break his focus; he kept a shaky hand still pointed in her direction.

"Who are you?" he demanded.

"My name is Asiya," she responded coolly. She still didn't move her gaze, and was staring straight through him. Suddenly self-conscious, Vlad looked down at himself and noticed to his mild horror that he had no shirt on, but patches of gauze around his arms and shoulders (strangely enough, he was also still in his ghost form, something which he usually didn't wake up in).

And yet this girl continued to look at him with no discernable reaction at all. Growing suspicious, he waved his free hand around in front of her eyes, garnering no reaction.

She was blind.

"You are upset," Asiya spoke again, matter-of-factly. The neutrality in her voice caught Vlad off-guard.

"Well, yes. Of course," he snapped, finally dropping his attack and looking back around at his room. A small flicker of light from a crude oil lamp highlighted a piece of fabric on the wall; or, rather, upon closer inspection, the fabric _was _the wall. They were both in a caravan of some sort.

Asiya seemed to hesitate for a second before speaking again.

"You have been through very many things," she announced. "Much pain."

Vlad looked at her incredulously.

"How do you know what I've been through?" he accused her, and at this she seemed to shrink back a little. She fiddled with her hemline nervously, staying quiet. Vlad only became more indignant.

"Do you know what has happened to me?" he demanded of her. Asiya had no choice but to explain.

"Your past is very convoluted; I just…"

"Just what?" he interrupted. "How much do you know about me?"

The poor girl remained silent.

"Well?" Vlad snapped again, expecting an answer.

"…you are angry with me," she stated shyly, almost as if she wanted to ask it as a question but was too timid to do so.

"Really? Did you manage to figure that out from my dreams too?" Vlad replied viciously.

He leaned over to make sure Asiya could hear him up close.

"Let's get one thing straight, dear girl. I read others like a book; not the other way around."

She was unresponsive. Disgusted, Vlad searched around for his top garments and found his shirt, belt and cape folded neatly on a chair in the opposite corner of the tent, or caravan, or whatever he was standing in.

Just as he grabbed them another presence drifted through the curtains into the room, and when he turned around he was surprised to recognize the face.

Desiree returned his shocked stare before floating up to him.

"You're up!" she cried, grabbing his arm and trying to lead him back to the bed. "Have you met…"

She was cut off when Vlad yanked his arm back and headed out the same direction she came in.

* * *

><p>"…<em>nrgh!<em>" he grunted in pain as his tunic grazed a sensitive area of his shoulder. Vlad hadn't realized it when he woke up, probably because of the rush of adrenaline, but his arms were starting to feel incredibly sore. Come to think of it, so did _everything else._

He had to stop and let the throbbing in his shoulder calm down. The woman floating behind him took this as an opportunity to speak up.

"Doesn't seem that easy now, does it?" she commented, hovering over next to him.

Vlad turned around and didn't expect to meet her gaze. He quickly broke eye contact and resumed trying to pull his top down all the way so he could put on his belt, but it was still difficult.

They were standing outside of the place where Vlad had found himself; he was finally able to see the exterior was a small but elaborately set-up tent, one that reminded him vaguely of some hack fortune tellers that rested on the side of the road on occasion. He was also, as he had suspected, somewhere in the Ghost Zone, which possibly explained why he hadn't woken up human (possibly). Anyone (or thing) could spot Desiree and himself standing on the gravitating boulder that supported the makeshift dwelling.

Desiree put a hand on Vlad's shoulder suddenly, causing him to tense up defensively. He couldn't remember much about this woman, or anything that had occurred in the past few… days? Weeks? _Months? _It unnerved him how much had slipped past. And yet something instinctively reminded him that this ghost had proven herself to be quite capable and vindictive in the past, and so he waited cautiously for what she would do despite the pain he was in.

Which was enough to surprise him again when she kindly helped fix his tunic the rest of the way, even brushing a patch of dirt off.

She noticed the strange look on Vlad's face and smiled back warmly.

"Are you planning on going back in soon?" she inquired.

Vlad raised an eyebrow, as if to imply she should know the answer to this already.

"…I highly doubt it, my dear. There's no way I can stay out here where they can find me."

Desiree looked confused.

"They will be able to find you everywhere else. Besides, your wounds need tending to."

Vlad didn't understand.

"…Desiree, not to sound rude, but may I ask why you went through the trouble of bringing me here in the first place?"

She tilted her head to one side.

"Well, Asiya was the best suited to take care of you. After the rest of the group split ways, this was the only…"

"No," he interrupted, putting his hand up. "I meant why do you care?"

Desiree looked puzzled.

"Plasmius, don't you remember?" she asked coyly, smiling a little. Luckily solid red eyes weren't easy to read, or Desiree would have noticed something amiss. Several worst-case scenarios flashed through Vlad's mind immediately, and he wasn't sure how much time he had to sort them all out.

It seemed for now he wouldn't have an opportunity to even worry about it. Desiree was tugging at his sleeve towards the tent.

"Come, grab the rest of your things; you need rest. We have a special tea that can do the trick. Don't worry about Asiya, she is an old friend, she will not harm you…"

The both of them were almost through the front tent flaps when Vlad heard the beat of flapping wings. Due to his extra-sensitive hearing, it took Desiree a few more seconds to notice the sound, and she pulled him back in quickly so she could inspect the new visitors. Vlad shuddered to think about who might be after him, or what he had done to set off a manhunt in the first place.

He could only catch a peek back outside behind Desiree's mass of black hair, but it was all he needed to spot a group of old acquaintances.

"Ve need to speak with Plasmius," barked the one in front, obviously the head of the arrangement.

"How did you find me?" Vlad asked, pushing past Desiree back into the open. The three vultures settled themselves onto the space of rock available in front of their leader.

"It took a vile," commented the one with the glasses in the back. "But one of your allies vas able to give us a tip or two."

Vlad heard a scoff behind him coming from Desiree. He turned to find her partially hidden behind one of the tent flaps, sneering at his companions. Vlad didn't understand her reaction at first until he realized she probably recognized her accents, and given the time period she was from, she probably wasn't too keen on meeting them personally. Vlad hissed and pinched the bridge of his nose; he did _not _need any of this right now.

He turned his attention back to the vultures.

"Well, you're here now. What do you want?"

The head vulture looked hesitant to speak, so the last one in the back decided to do it himself.

"It's time you learned a bit more about your past."

Vlad stared at him like he had grown a second head (which, admittedly, wasn't the strangest thing he had seen in his time, but that was beside the point).

The head of the group floated up to Vlad's eye level.

"To do zat, zere is someone in particular you need to talk to."

Vlad scowled.

"And who exactly is that?"

"You vill find out," remarked the vulture. "But zere is one catch."

There was a pause, one from the vulture because he wasn't sure he wanted to see Vlad's reaction when he heard the news, and the other from Vlad because he wasn't sure he did, either.

"You have to go back to Amity Park."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Harriet just strikes me as a Margaret Cho type. I'm probably alone in this.**


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